Year 8 and PTSD all 'Round
by Nopony
Summary: After the war Harry is left with PTSD and not a lot of motivation, until he finds that Hogwarts is letting everyone repeat the last year. He's going home, but things have changed. Draco is a lost puppy, Harry is a self-destructive, blushing virgin, Hermione is nagg-tastic in the best of ways, Ron has a personality and FRED LIVES!
1. Chapter 1

Harry Potter and the Damage Control

_With the Second Wizarding War at an end many mourn their losses and turn to friends for help._

_It has only_ _been two months since the famed 'Battle of Hogwarts', and the school has announced that the last year had been unsatisfactory in our children's education. Headmistress Minerva McGonagall suggests that all the students repeat the year, so that they might receive the teachings required. The Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, agrees, and while he didn't pass an official statement making McGonagall's plan mandatory, Shacklebolt admitted that, "As our youth are our greatest asset, we need them prepared."_

_- Michelle Gothsby, The Daily Prophet_

* * *

Harry James Potter sat alone in a room at number 12, Grimmauld Place. He'd been there for nearly three weeks, staring wistfully at a picture he appeared to see straight through.

The picture in question holds a young man, wearing spectacles with messy black hair, laughing with a scruffy-looking man. They both look carefree and gleeful, but Harry Potter knows better. He knows that both of those men are dead.

The door handle rattles, but Harry hardly notices. Only the murmuring of spells and the click of a lock drag him from his musings.

"Harry? Are you in here?" The voice belongs to Harry's friend Neville Longbottem, but it sounds as if directed at glass, as though words could shatter Harry.

Harry looks up at the door, puts on his best attempt at a grin and says in a voice, scratchy from disuse, "Nope. You might check down the hall, though."

Neville pokes his head into the door and winces at the sight that meets him. "How long have you just been sitting there?" The pity in his voice is unbearable.

"Not long enough." Harry replies tersely. If Neville came here just to look at him like a dying hospital patient, Harry thought he'd be sick. Too many people did that already.

There was a sound from the landing below Harry. Neville stuck his head out the door to respond, but was cut off mid sentence. The sound of stomping approached, and Harry subconsciously curled up smaller.

"HARRY POTTER YOU BASTARD!" Came the voice of Hermione Granger, one of Harry's best friends.

"Nice to see you too, 'Mione." said Harry, attempting humor.

"Oh, don't start. You've been up here sulking for a month!" Hermione snarled. Neville shrunk away, and Harry wished he could follow. Hermione poked her head out the door and called "RON, I'VE FOUND HIM."

"It hasn't been a month, it's barley been a week," Harry coughed out in a vain attempt to calm Hermione down. He didn't exactly remember, but it couldn't have been that long. Could it?

"Yes," Hermione spit out,"it has been a month. Have you have just been sitting here not concerned that we didn't know where you'd gone? You just swanned off after testifying at some trials and didn't bother to tell any of us where you were going!" she steamed. "Just look at yourself, you're filthy! Have you eaten anything since you got here?"

Harry winced again, knowing that Hermione was not going to be happy. "Yeah," he mumbled "once in awhile." Though the only food still edible was from the Ministry officials stay there, while they were on the run. The stuff hadn't exactly been fresh.

Hermione's expression twisted into concern, but just then, Ron burst in looking livid. Harry grimaced.

"HARRY WHAT THE BLOODY HELL? YOU HAD US SCARED TO DEATH! We thought someone had killed you! Oh, Kingsley is gonna love this. He had aurors looking for you all over the country!" Ron shouted and Harry winced.

Had he really been missing that long? Had he caused an uproar in his absence? He sighed and looked down at the bedspread that had grown rumpled after long hours spent on it.

"Sorry, didn't think it would cause such a fuss. I was just looking to clear my head and got caught up thinking." Harry muttered loud enough for them to hear. His head felt wrapped in cotton, he couldn't get the right words out.

Neville opened his mouth as if to accept the apology, but Hermione shot him a glare before rounding on Harry again.

"Harry, have you really just been sitting here for all that time? You prat, you're going to starve yourself!" She said, but this time it was more exasperated. Harry shrugged, trying to come up with a good excuse, but he couldn't get his brain to work.

Ron threw up his hands in annoyance. "I'll go send an owl to Kingsley. It's a good thing nobody else will hear about this or we'd be a laughing stalk– finding a missing person in their own house."

Harry looked up, his eyes unfocused, but Ron seemed not to notice and continued, "You ever pull a stunt like that again and I'll skin you. Well, assuming Mum doesn't first." Harry paled.

"Are you feeling okay, Harry?" Neville piped up from beside Hermione. Harry tried to look at him, and blurrily nodded.

He moved to stand up, but the floor disappeared and everything went black. (A/N Who doesn't love a cliché?)

* * *

Draco Malfoy was in mourning. Well, he was supposed to be in mourning. And he was, in the way a victim of stockholm syndrome mourns their captor.

Lucious Malfoy's death had been a long time coming. It was an uncommon occurrence when a death eater ever walked away from He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's service, and Lucious hadn't exactly been well liked. But Lucious had deserved what he got, Draco though, his face hardening. He had dragged his entire family into this mess, not to mention countless others that he'd recruited. He had used anyone and everyone as a shield. An excuse. A sacrifice.

Draco tried to drag his thoughts away from that ledge, before he plummeted into horrid memories of his father, and what he'd done to his mother and himself.

"Draco, have you seen the prophet this morning?" Narcissa Malfoy asked from the front of the table. She was looking at him like she knew what was running through his head. "They have decided to bring back all of the seventh year students so you can get a proper last year's education."

Draco knew that the school had been planning that since they cleared the corpses. He was surprised they hadn't announced it sooner... But that left an uneasy feeling in his stomach. How could he face all of those he had hurt?

Those his father had hurt, he corrected himself. But he could have killed his father when he had the chance. So, technically it was his fault anyway.

Narcissa saw her son's internal struggle. She knew the hardships he faced, but she wanted him to get past it.

"Draco," she started quietly, "you don't have to go back if you really don't want to, but I would like you to give it a try." Narcissa carefully watched Draco's reaction, deeming weather or not he was ready to be pushed.

Draco himself was rather taken aback. He wasn't used to having a choice in his fate. The thought hadn't occurred to him to say no. He flinched at the thought, his father would have- ...but his father wasn't here.

He breathed deeply and smiled back at Narcissa "Of course, mother."

Narcissa noticed the flinch and grimaced. "Draco, he is gone. You have a choice."she paused and pursed her lips at the crisp unfamiliar tone her son had used "And you can just call me 'mom'. You needn't be so formal anymore."

Draco wondered whether his moth- mom was was a legidemens. She seemed to know exactly what to say.

He smiled, sheepishly. "Thanks, mom. I think I'll give it a go, and send you an owl if things get too unpleasant." Draco felt odd being so informal with Narcissa, yet it wasn't an unwelcome feeling, just …different.

"Excellent," Narcissa beamed, "then I'll send a house elf to get your trunk out. We can go shopping as soon as your letter arrives."

Author's Notes: So I haven't written in a while and I hope that this isn't too bad. I've got the second chapter almost finished now, so hopefully I'll be updating regularly. FLAMES WILL BE USED TO ROAST MARSHMALLOWS.

Please review, lots of love,

~Nopony


	2. Chapter 2

**Harry Potter and the Bad Coping Methods**

Molly Weasley, if asked, would call Harry Potter her son. Indeed, she already had without prompting on several occasions. But if one of Molly Weasley's sons had run off to deal with PTSD alone and developed malnutrition, they would be killed.

As it happens, Harry Potter had gone and done exactly that and lived to tell of it completely intact. Well, mostly.

"HARRY JAMES POTTER, YOU SCARED US to DEATH!" Molly Weasley's voice rang like an angel's song through hall leading to the Chosen one's hospital room (if an angel's song was the screeching sound angels would make while being crushed to death by a very large rock).

The hospital staff briefly considered stopping this angry woman on her way to the savior of the Wizarding world's room, but all decided against it. Best not to get in the way of maternal instinct.

The small group already assembled in the room parted like the Red Sea as Molly entered. Harry quietly begged Hermione not to shift from her place on his bed, but she shot him a look saying,"It's your own fault" and moved to let Mrs. Weasley through.

Harry's head was still hurting from the illness that was result of him sitting in a room for three weeks with less than one meal every couple of days. Starvation and dehydration really should have crossed his mind before

There were also the issues of light and noise. He had been without either for quite a while, and was suddenly subject to an excessive amount of both. Not to mention the large amounts of people who thought that the best way to keep him from wanting to run away again was to yell at him for long periods of time. Harry was already chock full of guilt and regret when Molly stomped in.

"HARRY WHAT IN MERLIN'S NAME WERE YOU THINKING?!" she bellowed.

Harry winced, his stomach curling with anxiety, he felt his breath shortening, " , I-"

"Did you even THINK WHAT Would happen? Of course not, you just up anD LEFT!" Molly ran a hand through her hair, her nostrils flaring like a bull.

Harry, by this point looked thoroughly panicked, almost like a scared animal about to bolt, but the red haired woman didn't seem to notice at all. "You could have been killed, his followers didn't just disappear." she spat like the words were venomous "Not to MENSIO-  
"MOLLY!" Arthur Weasley cut off, gesturing to the boy in the hospital bed "Look at him."

Harry Potter, the savior of the wizarding world, was holding his head with his hands, shaking like a leaf in the wind. He was quietly hyperventilating, obviously on the edge of a panic attack. Harry felt nauseous, his vision switching between the hospital room and Voldemort, the sickening high pitched laughter piercing his thoughts like a knife.

Hermione was back at his side, pushing Mr. and Mrs. Weasley out of the way, before gently laying a hand on Harry's shoulder. "Harry, it's okay. You're here, with us. Whatever you're seeing, it isn't real."

Ron came on Harry's other side, gently nudging his shoulder. "Harry, mate, come back. I don't know what you see, but trust me, this is better. You are here with me and 'Mione. You're safe."

* * *

Draco walked across the side garden of Malfoy Manor, heading towards an old broom shed.

He'd always loved flying. Darco could recall his first time on a broom. it had been the most free he had ever felt. He'd flown so high and so far that he thought he would never have to return to the pain that awaited him back on the ground.

Draco had spent hours after particularly severe beatings dreaming that he and Mother could hop on the old broomsticks and fly so far away that Father could never find them. He'd even gone so far as to ask Mother, but she smiled with tears in her eyes and told him that they could never run that far. That hadn't stopped him dreaming, though.

Sometimes, like now, Draco wonders how it would have been if they _had_ run. Father probably would have caught them, he grimaced, realizing how foolish he must have sounded to Mother.

But, what if he hadn't? Suppose they had flown to the coast, lived under the stars. Draco grabbed his broom and mounted, kicking off and soaring high up into the air. He imagined a life not lived. What would he be like without his false bravado? Without his dark mark? He winced.

The mark had faded after He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named pasted, but there was still a burn scar where it had been cursed on. It reminded him of what he had become.

Draco dived steeply, pulling out and racing past the trees that whooshed on either side of him, taking with them his crowding thoughts. He outran his problems, for the first time since before the war.

* * *

**Author's Notes: ***dodges flying objects* I'm sorry! I know I said I'd update soon, but real life keeps getting in the way! (and my computer is a peice of crap that keeps deleting the chapters i write) But! Don't kill me yet, 'cause I'm back now and promise to have another chapter up by the end of the week!

Also, for those wondering, I'm not going with the official epilogue *grins evilly and ships Darry* Oh, and (sadly) I'm not British, so any help brit-picking my diction would be much appreciated. :D

Reviews are love, lots of love,

~Nopony


	3. Chapter 3

**Harry Potter and the Rehab**

While Harry's main concern was to get back to Hogwarts, that wasn't the first thing on everyone else's mind.

"But the healers said that I would be fine." Harry was protesting, but Ron and Hermione were having none of it.

"Harry," Ron growled "we had to drag you out of Grimmauld place. You're hardly more than bones and you flinch at every sound. Not to mention your panic attack at St. Mungo's! I want to hear nothing else from you. You have problems, just like the rest of us and you have to face them."

Harry knew Ron was right, he just didn't want to go to a shrink. They'd want him to 'talk about it'. How was he supposed to tell his life story to someone he didn't even know? Besides, they wouldn't really want to know about his problems. Hell, _he _didn't want to know about his problems.

But on the other hand, Harry thought as he looked at the unyielding expressions of Ron and Hermione. They couldn't really make him go. He sighed. Looking at his friends he knew they weren't being unfair; he got a choice in what happened to him. It was his decision. Wasn't it?

As if sensing Harry's thoughts, Hermione's face hardened. "We tried letting you deal already, and now you have to take healing potions twice a day. This isn't a debate, it's a notice."

Harry felt indignant, but Hermione's expression said that she was obviously not joking. He shook his head and let out a breath of frustration. His friends were treating him like a child, and he wasn't just going to accept it. What was wrong with them? Wasn't he supposed to be the strong one, the one who protected and helped?

"Harry, Ron, Hermione, it's time for dinner. Wash up and get down here, we have guests." Mrs. Weasley's voice drifted up to Ron's bedroom. Harry sighed and headed out the door behind Ron and Hermione.

The guests turned out to be the twins, taking time out of their business to come and see the family. Harry felt a little less tense with people laughing at Fred and George instead of glancing at him.

"So Harry," Fred Started

"We heard-"

"-that you-"

"-gave mum."

"-quite a scare."

"Never thought-"

"-that she'd-"

"-actually scream-"

"-someone to-"

"-death." They grinned as everyone tried to keep up. Harry just shrugged, not wanting to go down this road _again._

"No worries, mate." said George, scratching the side of his head where his ear used to be.

"We try not to judge." Fred added, almost as an after thought. They gave Harry a secrative wink, and gestured to the back door as served treacle tart, mouthing "Later"

After talking for what seemed hours and quite a few of Fred and George's jokes, people started heading off to bed. With a scornful look Hermione told Harry to go take his healing potion.

He slipped out the back door and seeing the empty yard figured he'd have to wait awhile. He sipped his potion, not wanting to take it all at once, because of the horrible nausea it left him with.

"Ooh, the naughty boy hasn't taken his medicine." Harry coughed and choked as Fred popped up on his left side.

"No, he's taking it," George replied, springing out of thin air on Harry's right, "just dragging his feet." They grinned with wicked mock-scorn.

Harry finally got his breathing under control, coughing out "Buggers" at the twins. This just caused them to snigger at him.

"It's better," George continued, "with a bit of cooperation."

Harry looked at him questioningly. "What?"

"You fight the potions," Fred said seriously.

"You fight the therapy,"

"you fight the healers,"

"you fight your friends,"

"what you really fight"

"is help." the twins finished together.

Harry's head was spinning. All he managed to get out was "You two need to cut that out. Can't keep up with both of you at once."

Fred and George looked at Harry seriously. "As much as we like jokes Harry, this isn't one." George ground out. "We all had near death experiences in the war, but you really took the cake as far as that went, and you need to tell someone or you'll explode."

"No one can face it alone, mate." Fred agreed, nodding.  
Harry knew where this was going and was tired of people shoving their opinion in his face and not waiting to hear his thoughts. "So you think I should just 'talk it out' with some random stranger who only knows my name and "story"" he air quoted the last word trying to contain his rage and desperation. "You want me to vent so that some person can 'help'? Oh no. _Hell_ no. I'm done telling people my problems."

He turned to leave before he felt hands on his shoulders. He tried to jerk away, but was still weak and was easily dragged around to see identical looks of confusion on the twin's faces.

"Random stranger?" They chorused in bewilderment.

"Harry, mate," Fred started looking at the boy with a half grin, "they didn't tell you?"

"Tell me what?" Harry snapped, still trying (and failing miserably) to escape the twin's surprisingly strong grip.

George looked at Fred and they burst into fits of giggles. "H-Harry," George started, trying and failing to catch his breath.

"He,haha, oh no wonder- he didn't kno- ha!" Fred hung off George, both shuddering with barley repressed laughter.

Harry broke free of their hold and was half tempted to just bolt, but couldn't help his growing curiosity at _what was so funny?_

"What?!" He tried again, getting impatient

"Those idiots!" George chuckled, looking up at Ron's window.

"It's no _wonder_ they couldn't get anywhere with him!" Fred clapped his brother on the shoulder, catching his breath and wiping a tear of laughter from his cheek. "Whoo, I haven't laughed that hard since Lee Jordan put exploding snap powder on Umbridge's chair."

"WHAT?!" Harry burst out, thoroughly annoyed by this point.

"Somebody's getting impatient, Forge." George gave Fred a knowing look.

Fred sighed,"Well, we better get on with it before midnight, Gred."

They both looked at Harry, still grinning "You're not going to some random person, you'll be talking to us."

Harry's thoughts stopped and his face froze. Whatever he had thought they were going to say, that obviously hadn't been it.

"Y-you-" Harry started, unable to wrap his head around the concept.

"Yep." The twins said together.

"But-"

"No, not tonight. We'll talk tomorrow." George said steering Harry towards the kitchen.

"H-hey! You can't- I'm not a kid you can put to bed!" Harry protested. "You can't just-"

Fred and George had enough. "Harry, this can go two ways," Fred said seriously.

"You can go to bed, or we can get mum, and you'll go to bed after a good lecture." George finished, sounding finnal.

"We'll be back tomorrow for lunch, after that we can talk, but right now we have to go home and you need sleep." Fred said "Now are you going to bed alone, or do we need to tell mummy?" He added jokingly.

* * *

**Author's Notes:** So, I didn't put a Draco bit in, but y'know I think I've all but exhausted my "Draco is a puppy, look at him!" bit. I'll probably have alot of him in the next chapter (hint hint). I am not sorry for making Fred and George naggy old wemen. I think that was beautiful, but please let me know what you lot think. I'm not saying when I'll have my next chapter in, because I've got family coming to visit and I might be tied up, but I'll try to get it in next week.

PLEASE REVIEW! Lots of love,

~Nopony


	4. Chapter 4

**Harry Potter and the Hogwarts Letter**

Harry woke up with his mind still buzzing from last night.. He was not exactly pleased at Ron and Hermione because they had known that Fred and George were going to be the ones talking to him, but kept him in the dark. Just like Dumbledore had, just like the Order had, just like it seemed everyone thought they should. He was just so sick of being left in the dark for 'his own good'. When would people realize that he could handle bad news?

But there lay another problem. Was this bad news? He wasn't at all sure how to feel about talking to the twins. One of the main reasons he didn't want to go to a therapist was that they wouldn't know him, but these were people who he was close to. But how could he tell them all that had happened and expect them to look at him the same?

There was a knock at his bedroom door. _His_ being relative, it was actually the twins old room, but Mrs. Weasley had said that he needed his own room because he was family and the twins didn't need it anymore. Privately, Harry thought that Ron had suggested it so Hermione could sneak up to Ron's room and they could sleep together.

The knocking started again, interrupting his train of thought. "Harry, dear, your letters have arrived. We're going to Diagon alley in about an hour, so you'll want to get up and have some breakfast."

Harry sighed and sat up. "Thanks, Mrs. Weasley. I'll be down in a moment."

"Alright dear." Mrs. Weasley's footsteps faded down the hall.

Harry got up and dressed before heading down stairs. In the kitchen Mr. Weasley sat reading a muggle news paper like it was a fascinating piece of art. Across from him Hermione and Ron were reading their letters, but looked up at him as he entered.

Harry was still frustrated by the fact that they hadn't told him about Fred and George, but didn't really feel like talking to them about it. They were his best friends and he didn't want to talk to them. 'Merlin, what has happened to us?' he thought to himself.

"Harry, this newspaper is absolutely fascinating!" Mr. Weasley said, looking like an excited child. "The pictures don't move, but it's all in color! Do they use those, um, I think it's called a pint press?" He looked up at Harry

"That's printing press, but yeah." Harry said sitting down and reaching for the toast.

"Brilliant!" Mr. Weasley exclaimed again.

As Harry spread jam on toast, thoughts gnawed at the inside of his skull. He tried to push them to the side, asking Ron for his letter. Opening it, the thoughts faded and he reminded himself that he was going home, and it was going to be fine. 'Yeah right.'

* * *

"Draco, we're going to Diagon alley today."

Draco was pulled from his thoughts as his mom's voice floated into his bedroom. His head shot up as she entered the room. "Whatever for? My letter hasn't-" But he stopped as his mother held out a parchment envelope.

"It arrived this morning, Draco." Ms. Malfoy said as he took the letter. "Best get dressed and ready, we'll be taking the flue in a few minutes." She headed back towards the door.

"Right." Draco muttered as his mom disappeared down the hall. He had been dreading this since she had first spoken of going back. He looked down at the letter, wondering who was the new headmaster/mistress. Opening the wax seal, he saw the usual handwriting, greeting, listings of books and signature at the bottom.

Scratch that, instead of 'Deputy Headmistress' it said 'Headmistress Minerva McGonagall'. So, that's who was running things. Draco couldn't say he was surprised, though he hadn't really thought of McGonagall taking the position. It made sense, he supposed. '_What with her being __Deputy Headmistress_ _and all'_. Draco shook his head and moved to get ready.

* * *

"Alright, everyone, I'd like to stay together in a group. I know you're all capable of shopping alone, but safety in numbers and all that." Mrs. Weasley was saying to the group of teenagers. She looked over to Harry Ron and Hermione and said jokingly, "That means no mischief, you three."

Harry rolled his eyes and looked around. The streets weren't too crowded, because it was so early, but they he knew that they would get swamped later because everyone had just gotten their letters.

They entered Flourish and Blotts and Mrs. Weasley started babbling about the latest celebrity author of a Grey book, or something. Harry wandered through the astronomy section, watching the silver constellations chase across the deep blue-ish purples of the display books' covers.

He checked his list to see if Prf. Sinistra had assigned a book this year. No, just like every year he only needed a star chart. Checking his list again, he made his way to the potions section.

* * *

Draco felt so exposed. His mother walked next to him, brisk paced and confident. He trailed slightly behind her, feeling like everyone was glaring at him, and for all he knew they were. He was once a Deatheater, after all. How could he just walk down a street?

His mother turned into Madam Malkin's Robes for all Occasions. Draco entered, suddenly feeling like this was a horrible idea. What if she realized who he was? What if she saw his dark mark?! 'The mark is gone you idiot!' he chided himself.

Madam Malkin stood him on a platform, got her pins and glanced up at him. Draco was sweating bullets when she paused at his face, but all she said was "Hogwarts?"

The rest of the day seemed to continue in a similar fashion. Just as Draco thought someone recognised him, they would turn and go about their own business. He was almost relaxed when they were walking to Amanuensis Quills.

"DRACO!" A voice called right behind him, and he jumped a foot in the air.

* * *

**Author's**** Notes:** Sorry this took so long, I've been super busy. I'll try to update regularly, but I have *8 hour days for the next month, so don't be surprised if it doesn't come regularly.

**ALSO:**I will be holding the next chapter hostage until people start reviewing. I _need to know _how I'm doing. I can't improve if nobody tells me what sucks and what doesn't. At this point I have three, but I want at least 10 by next chap. If it sucks enough that no one reviews, I'll stop posting. D,:

So yeah. Please review. Lots of love,

~Nopony


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